


Recruitment

by Elendiliel



Series: A Medic's Guide to the Galaxy [7]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Force Empathy (Star Wars), Gen, Planet Coruscant (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26915185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendiliel/pseuds/Elendiliel
Summary: The day before her graduation, a nearly-qualified nurse is invited to one final job interview - one that could change her whole future.
Series: A Medic's Guide to the Galaxy [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954132
Kudos: 1





	Recruitment

**Author's Note:**

> Chronology: about three-quarters of a standard year before the events of The Force Awakens.

It took a while for Elinor to register the humming sensation under her skin, the sense that something important was about to happen. She was too busy checking that she was in the right place and not late, or even uncomfortably early. She didn’t know this part of the university at all, and academic buildings are not known for being well signposted, but a few unmarked corridors held no terrors after three years navigating the traffic on the city-planet of Coruscant. Especially on a swoop bike that had belonged to her mother thirty years before, and was second hand then. Corellian tech: built to last. She knew her mother was amazed that she hadn’t yet had an accident, her clumsiness when not paying full attention being a family legend. That had been an argument against her going in for nursing, but Elinor had been adamant that it was her vocation, and twenty-odd years married to Elinor’s father had taught her mother not to fight a calling.

Her ability to mess things up had also forced her to adopt certain habits, one of which was getting-lost time. Ten extra minutes added on to any estimated journey time to anywhere she didn’t know well. On this occasion, she’d needed five of them after a wrong turning, but was still early. She used the time to try to fix her permanently windswept-looking hair and generally compose herself. She didn’t have the slightest clue why she’d been asked to come here, except that it was about a possible job opportunity, and first impressions counted in such cases.

She finally noticed the unfamiliar feeling just as she prepared to knock on the door. It resonated with a distant memory, the exact experiences half-forgotten until now, although she had the relevant facts on file. Oh well; too late to consider it properly now. She’d just have to wing it.

As she was invited in and stepped inside, the sensations intensified, pointing her (inexplicably but unnecessarily) to the only other person in this out-of-the-way meeting room. A woman about her parents’ age, not overly tall, medium build, grey hair braided behind her head in a style Elinor would love to master. _Her_ hair pulled free of anything more practical than a half-ponytail in minutes. And with a sense of dignity and command that had Elinor standing semi-subconsciously to attention.

“Please, sit down.” The woman gestured to an empty chair, and Elinor was halfway into it before her brain could ratify her legs’ decision, spine perfectly straight. The other woman extended a hand. “Leia Organa. Pleased to meet you.”

“At your service, General.” Where in blazes had that come from?

“I take it you know who I am, then?” General Organa didn’t seem surprised. Just about everyone in the New Republic, and presumably quite a lot elsewhere, knew her name. “I’d be interested to know just how _much_ you know about me.”

Elinor recognised an icebreaker when she heard one, and was grateful. She let her eyes slide out of focus while she accessed the relevant files, feeding the data straight to her mouth. “General Leia Organa. Only child of Senator Bail Organa, one of the founders of the Alliance. Galactic Senator by the age of nineteen. Princess of Alderaan. Instrumental in getting the Death Star plans from Scarif to Yavin IV, securing the Alliance’s first major victory. Part of the taskforce that ensured the second Death Star’s destruction at Endor. Helped stop Operation Cinder in its tracks. Holder of various diplomatic and political posts since then. Close friend and pupil of Master Luke Skywalker. Married to General Han Solo. One child, Ben.” She focused back on the General. “That’s all I know for certain.”

“That’ll do for now. Here’s what I know about you. Elinor Mary Kirsten Macnab, aged twenty-one, standard. Born on Naboo, eldest daughter of Kenneth and Camilla Macnab. Two younger sisters, Catriona and Teresa. Withdrawn and solitary as a child, but you found your feet eventually. Impressive academic record, especially in sciences and mathematics, securing you a place here to train as a nurse, despite a list of medical issues. Specialised in emergency medicine. Graduating tomorrow near the top of your class. You take on extra shifts, cover for your classmates, and somehow find time for four committees and some charity work, especially among the homeless. Do you even have time to sleep?”

Not the first time she’d been asked that. “I got the hang of time management years ago. And it’s better than drinking and clubbing, which in the long term don’t do anybody any good. My idea of a decent night out ends when most people’s begins.”

“I won’t argue with that. As I said, you have an impressive record. You also have three job offers from hospitals around the Core, and one from a clinic on Nevarro. Do you know which one you’ll take yet?”

“I’m leaning towards Nevarro. It’s exactly what I had in mind when I applied here. Serving people the New Republic has mostly ignored, but not in a patronising or condescending way. It’s a local-led clinic, but they want the kind of skills found almost exclusively in the Core. I can help rectify that situation.”

“Working long hours, for not much pay?”

“That’s part of the job anywhere. Besides, beyond the basics I’ve never cared much about money.”

“So if Nevarro is perfect, why haven’t you accepted the offer yet? It can’t be family pressure. You’re here in the first place against your parents’ wishes.”

“I don’t know. Something kept telling me to wait. And how do you know so much about me?”

“One thing at a time. Have you heard of the Resistance?”

“Just as a rumour, but the kind that’s too persistent to be entirely false. Some kind of unofficial second navy, fighting the First Order – which is also in the likely-rumour category.” A very nasty rumour.

“That’s more or less correct. I want to offer you a job with us. We always need good medics, and I think you’re just what I’m after. I’ll warn you now, it’s likely to be very dangerous. We can’t really pay you well, but you’ll be fed and housed. You’ll have to work hard, but I’d say you work yourself hard in any situation. And one more thing – if you accept, you can’t tell anyone where you’re going. Not even your family. In fact, once you joined us it’d be best not to contact them at all. We have a lot of sources of information, which is why I know so much about you, but so do the First Order. And their ways of getting it can be unpleasant.”

That dampened Elinor’s enthusiasm, but didn’t extinguish it. Something deep inside her was saying _yes, go on, this is what you want, this is your calling_. But it wasn’t quite strong enough to break through years of conditioning to be sensible, to be cautious, not to rush into anything. “How long do I have to decide?”

“I’m leaving in an hour, and you have a shift in two hours’ time.” Elinor was by now not surprised that the General knew her shift rota. “Effectively, until the end of this conversation. But this might make your mind up for you.” Throughout their discussion, she’d had a datapad in front of her and occasionally referred to it. Elinor could see, upside down, her most recent identity image. Leia switched to a different file, headed by a much older picture of her. All the pieces clicked together, but she held her tongue and waited.

“I think I know why you haven’t accepted the Nevarro job. Do you remember having your midichlorian count assessed, when you were ten?”

“Yes, I do.” _Throw the ball back!_ Her mother’s advice from her first-ever interview couldn’t budge the excitement that was now blocking her speech centres.

“You were a borderline case, and chose not to undergo Jedi training. Luke – Master Skywalker – gave you some exercises to help control and channel your abilities. Did you follow them?”

“Yes. They’ve been very helpful.”

“That’s good. What kind of abilities have you noticed?” Leia seemed genuinely curious for the first time. Elinor wasn’t surprised. She’d been so careful, all her life. Childhood for someone like her was hard enough without exhibiting talents that got you called _sorcerer_ and worse.

“I know what’s around me without having to look. Clearly up to about a metre and a half, then it gets foggy very fast. Sometimes I can tell what’s about to happen, but not always in time to do anything about it. People’s feelings and sensations, too, especially when I touch them. It’s useful on the wards, but I don’t use it for exams. That’d be cheating.” She had to stop to line up the next thoughts. “And when I was outside this room, I could sense you, and knew something important was going to happen.” That had all come out a bit muddled. She hoped it made sense outside her head.

“Just feelings?” _You can’t hear people’s thoughts?_ Leia’s voice echoed through her mind.

“Not until just then. Life’s complicated enough as it is. Especially as half the time I don’t know how to respond to the emotions I sense.”

“I can help you with all of that. I’m not offering you a proper apprenticeship, and you wouldn’t have the time if I did. But I can help you understand your gifts, maybe strengthen them. And protect you if anyone else finds out what you are.” She extended her hands, palms up. “As a demonstration, how much can you tell about me?”

Elinor hesitated, wrestling with her habit of concealment. She won, and took Leia’s hands, closing her eyes to help her focus.

“You’re tired. I’d say caf has been more prominent than sleep in your life lately. That feeling I know well. Hungry, too. It’s been a long time since breakfast.” Those were physical sensations. Easy. To impress Leia, which she now very much wanted, she had to go deeper. “Curious. You’ve read my file, but it’s never the same as actually meeting someone. And you’re wondering about the next potential recruit.” Deeper. “Low-level concern. Pretty much constitutive. You’re always worried about the Resistance when you’re not there, and about your field agents.” Deeper, deeper. She’d never gone this far before. It had always seemed rude, but she was sure Leia would stop her if she overreached.

Down into the core. She had expected something similar, but not this _strong_. Tears slid, unbidden, from under her closed lids. “Who hurt you?” It was almost a whisper.

She opened her eyes again. Leia was weighing her up, deciding whether or not to trust this stranger with her secrets. She must have seen something she liked.

“What you said about me earlier was true, as far as it went. But there are some things that very few people know. Luke Skywalker isn’t just my friend. He’s my brother.” That made a lot of sense. She remembered the feeling she’d had around Master Skywalker. He and Leia were like two cuttings from the same plant, grown in different soil. (Why did she always default to horticultural metaphors?) “He’s been missing for a long time. Since one of his apprentices destroyed the new Jedi temple he’d built. Killed half the students, abducted the rest.” She paused again, bracing herself to admit something even more painful. “That apprentice was my son. Ben. Calls himself Kylo Ren now.” Yikes! Even Elinor had heard stories of the Knights of Ren and their leader. “Han and I each blamed ourselves. Went back to doing what we do best. I haven’t seen any of them in years.”

Elinor was still holding Leia’s hands. At a loss for what to say, she gathered up her feelings – sorrow, sympathy, the desire to help – and pushed them towards the older woman. Leia smiled, acknowledging the clumsy gesture, and broke the contact.

Elinor took a deep breath. Decision time. “I’m in. This is what I’ve been called to do. I _know_ it.” She couldn’t quite verbalise how, but she did. “How do I join?”

“Can you get to Mirrin Prime three days from now?”

“Shouldn’t be hard. I was going to take some time off and go travelling after graduation anyway. My last chance to see the galaxy, I thought. I’ve already arranged for my belongings to make their way home without me.” Home. That was a point. “I’ve got to tell my parents _something_.”

“Tell them as much of the truth as you can. Not where you’re going or why, but enough that they won’t worry.”

“No chance of that. Worrying is in the nature of mothers. But I think I can keep it to a minimum. What will I need to bring?”

“Just a few clothes and any other essentials. We can supply the rest.” Leia glanced at her chrono. “I need to go. May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you.” The formal farewell had always seemed a bit clunky at best, and daft at worst, but Leia made it work.

Back in her room, already almost packed and ready to leave, Elinor took stock. Her whole future had just been shifted – or had it always been headed this way? Something about which to ask Leia. She checked over the belongings she’d planned to take on her travels. Really, all she needed was what she’d bring to a sleepover, plus a few other items. And her med-kit, of course. On impulse, knowing that it was important but not why, she added her best dresses, some smart shoes and a few other accessories. The Force and Maker alone knew the reason for that, but she trusted them.

She headed off for her shift. Last one before graduation, but no need to get sloppy. She could compose the message to her parents at her leisure. Words had never come naturally to her. She liked numbers, formulae, diagrams, concrete _things_. One reason she had chosen emergency medicine; less talking to patients, unless it was about symptoms and diagnoses and other matters that were easy to put into understandable words. Presumably combat work would be similar.

As she went about her normal rounds, mentally saying goodbye to all the familiar people, places and objects, she had no idea what lay in store for her. But one conviction carried her through: the choice she’d made was the right one. Whatever happened next, it would be what she’d always been meant to do. And that had to be a good thing.


End file.
